If you don't turn around
by Legumevert
Summary: They all fought to get what they wanted: Karen broke it so that it could fit her small hands and her little heart. She never intented to hurt anyone. Maybe it had a been but a whim -but it had definitely been something she cherished. It was something she held close even though it was long lost. [Crenny, slight Kebe, one-sided Karaig]
1. Prologue : around the bend

_Hi people! This is (supposed to be) a few chapters long. There will be Crenny, slight Kebe and one-sided Karaig. I won't say too much because it would ruin it, but you should know that, except for the prologue here, most chapters will be told in Karen's point of view (still third person though). I'm a foreigner, I don't speak nor write a perfect English, so please bear with the mistakes/awkward grammar and syntax you may find here. Enjoy. :)_

The sky was almost blue, or at least it was a close call: it was far from its usual plain grey and that alone was already an event of some sort out here. The colors were the main problem with this city. Anthracite, black, dazzling and icy white hues shared the place with metallic tinges that sometimes agreed to be almost blue –but great lord, a true, vivid one would have been asking too much. Some other dude might have found some other reproach to blame the place, perhaps even some more relevant ones. However the fucking sky and the TV that was only working half of the time were the most annoying fucks ever as far as Craig was concerned. He wasn't a demanding person, you see.

As long as everything was fine, he was fine too. His credo was to never overthink it, and by the way he was lying on the sofa with a bowl of cereal on his lap, there was no doubt it worked awesomely. His mother –she was quiet in the kitchen. His father –he was a bit less quiet at work. His sister –God only knows where she was. So much for her, good for him, at least he didn't have to watch the trouble-filled asses of some Kardashians on TV. He sighed, switched channels once, twice, three and four times, zapped gleefully and doomed a few of the programs that kept on airing in spite of their obvious lack in interest. He decided to doom the stupid people who kept their rating afloat all the same while he was at it. He knew the programs like the back of his hand. Four pm meant that in about fifteen minutes there would be old cartoons reruns two channels higher. It was alright; damn it, it was even quite good if you just went along.

-Honey, said his mother, it may be about time you… Go out, play, or do something, don't you think so?

She stood right before him, more precisely right between him and the screen. She saw the way he was barely sitting on the sofa, eating chocolate, cladded in an old jogging and even older shirt. There was no way she hadn't guessed "going out" wasn't in his plans that day. His posture and attitude as a whole let out a clear message: I feel good where I am and I absolutely intend on staying. Her fists on her hips, her mouth a crisp, she frowned and still managed to look more worried than angry somehow. She glared at him, obviously on the verge of throwing him out in the garden –on the verge on impeachment, may he say.

He knew she was expecting some kind of answer, but he didn't really catch which one.

-I don't know, he retorted randomly, going for his favorite, sacrosanct neutrality.

-Karen called. She wanted to know whether you're alright. And what do I say, huh? I say you're too busy pretending to be a zombie to answer texts, or that the TV ate your soul? Maybe just saying you're doing as good as usual and doing nothing would be a better idea, wouldn't it?

Craig raised his head the moment she mentioned Karen. If Karen called, it meant he was in deep shit again some way or another –or that she was, which was more or less the same thing. He gave her money already. They made up a while ago, and he was always there for her when it was needed.

Of course, "hey how are you"'s, "are you coming with us next Saturday"'s, and the likes counted for nothing. He hadn't signed for that much. The terms included money, hours spent on the telephone telling her everything was going to be okay, and even scaring the shit out of some jerks at her school. It had to remain a give-and-take kind of deal: he looked after her, and she let everything he had something to do with in marvelous, brilliant peace, et voilà. They had tried to take care of each other and stuff; it had been the worst fiasco ever, stinking counterfeit. They had both been utterly unhappy during that time. They weren't any happier now, but at least they were breathing.

Try and explain stuff like that to your mother. He'd have a good laugh.

-Tell her that I'm… Fine?

-Would that make me a liar?

He looked away and studied with great attention the patterns on the sofa. Wasn't that an old coffee stain here? And there was a flower, how nice.

-Craig, would that be a lie?

-Not really, I'm fine, I swear. Now leave me alone for two minutes while I'm watching TV.

-You didn't use to spend so much time staring at it. So, how is it going with Karen?

-She's just a kid, anyway, and I'm…

-Is she alright at least?

-Yes.

-And so, you..

-Mom, shit. TV. Please. I'm watching.

He glared at her, his spoon stuck in the air between his mouth and his bowl. He could have hardly made it any clearer. He was the Boredom brought to life. The worst part of it was that he knew exactly what she was going to give him –the same old stories she gave him the day before or maybe the day before that one. Something that wouldn't be very striking: he was "grown up now", he should " be more responsible", that she "didn't know what that was that made him so grumpy", but that –and it would go on and on and on. It reminded him of the times he used to mimic his mother's tirades, faking her high-pitched voice and reproachful tone. They'd often had such arguments when he did too much shit for her to take or when they both had a bad day. It usually made everyone laugh afterwards.

She turned around, not forgetting to let out a deep sigh while she was at it, implying as many things as she could in a second. Right before she reached the kitchen, Craig rolled on the side to face her and ask:

-Did we get any mail today?

That was a ritual question.

-No, we only got bills you don't give a damn for.

That was the ritual answer. Sometimes he wondered how many bills they got per month –many for sure.

You didn't get plenty of mail from Heaven-city, or maybe it couldn't be delivered from six feet under the ground. Tom was getting rolled over by a bus on the screen; he kept chasing the mouse anyway, as if nothing happened, slightly annoyed. His mother would have killed for a cat like this one. It was genius. The boy started to laugh frantically –really, it was pure genius.

He should have stopped asking that question and gone back to school, do something with his life. But no, he didn't do a thing. He looked after Karen, even though they weren't going out anymore and that it had always been kind of awkward between them when they still were. He kept in touch with his friends. Not doing any of that shit would sure have been the easy way out, but oh well. He still cared for his promises, even the dumbest ones. He didn't forget them. How could he? If the voices were already fading away, what would you be left with if you forgot the words they said? Not much, he knew the answer, it was crystal clear. He'd have less again than the little he ever had.

But at least he had TV. He could at least keep that.


	2. Tool around

_And here comes the first chapter. I know it's rather short, but the lengh of each will depend on what I have to say. Pus shorter chapters also means quicker updates (the French version will be avalaible at least one day earlier though).\o/ I still don't own the characters nor the universe they live in, and my grammar/syntax is still highly questionable, please bear with it. Enjoy !_

-Kenny, we're gonna be late! Seriously, hurry up!

-Give me a minute, I'm trying to make it work, I need to focus.

Karen threw her brother a skeptic look from the passenger seat. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't grasp the concept: how exactly did one need to focus to get a damn car started –if it did deserve such a name, something of which the girl couldn't be a hundred percent sure of. She tied her belt anyway and prayed the Lord for the engine not to be broken. If she had to walk to school, it was the end of her, totally dead, she'd be late. It wasn't a big deal for teachers. They usually were comprehensive toward students who barely skipped any lessons and had their homework done most of the time, but she cringed at the idea of stepping in the classroom out of the blue and draw all the attention to her little person. Just the idea was enough. She should perhaps skip the whole hour. Maybe Miss Brood would be even later than her again. Maybe the school would have been blown up in a huge gas explosion in the middle of the night.

Or perhaps Kenny was going to drive her there in his crippled car.

She coughed, began to wag on her seat and leer toward the door at every one of the blonde's failed attempts. If she went now, she limited the damage, a good point she could not overlo-

-And here we go!

-Well, I'm glad you're so good with machinery, ten minutes, you're actually getting better, she said in a sarcastic tone softened by a broad smile.

-You bet, he answered with the same expression on his face, laughter in his eyes and dimples at the corner of his mouth. Hey, you mind if we go get a friend of mine on the way? Cause he just sent me a text and, you see, he's in deep shit right now.

Karen pulled back to try and distinguish a slightly less fuzzy image of the screen Kenny held an inch away from her face. He never got past that phase when children can't help shaking everything at everyone's face to make sure they really, really did see what they were showing. She raised her shoulders without even glancing at the name of the sender. She secretly hoped still that it wouldn't be Tweek. Lord, show some mercy. Two miles an hour was already too fast for him, unless you were ready for a thorough clean-up of the carpet and backseats. She wasn't –at all.

Kenny aimed at an about-face, and soon they were conquering the mighty street on the way to their wonderful school. They both went to middleschool: she was a first year, he was a senior for the second time. He claimed more than once during the past few months that his ambitions didn't lead him up to highschool anyway, they stopped right before. "Since I'm not going to college anyway", as he ironized. Karen thought it was stupid. He could have asked Kyle, Wendy or Bebe for help. They would have happily lent a hand. Then he could have gotten some scholarship like poor people with brains did –she didn't know whether or not he did, thanks to that fraternal-love-filter she liked to consider him through. Well, at least he couldn't be as stupid as he asserted he was.

-Shit, I missed the road. Oh-look-a-birdie Karen didn't see anything, the road is back right before our mesmerized eyes!

-You got the examiner drunk before you passed your license or what?!

Rather than calmly waiting for the next alley to turn around, Mister I-decided-to-get-us-potentially-killed decided to repeat his attempt at an about-face in the middle of the street, roll over the sidewalk and a potential-passerby, then to turn left, finally, and park right before the Tucker's house, a sorry smile firmly set on his sorry lips. He probably meant it, which only made things worse.

-I didn't want to get mad at you, but do that again and I swear, I tie you up somewhere. What good will it do to you to be dead, uh?

He seemed to have a brief moment of thinking, not bothering to look convincing:

-Pretty flowers from you and a sexy as hell embalmer to take care of my body? It doesn't sound so bad if you ask me.

-You suck.

-It runs in the family.

-Ever heard you were adopted?

-I always knew I was too handsome to have been born in this family.

-Am I interrupting or something?

Karen turned around and immediately shut her mouth when she spotted Craig throwing his bag and his ass on the backseat. He gave her a slight nod and shook Kenny's hand. Mom often made fun of her for that: she had a kind of "mute" button to press, hidden somewhere on her body. Dad didn't let such a golden occasion pass him by: why didn't her fucking mother have the same, so she could shut the hell up sometimes? And said goddamn wife caught up pretty quick in terms of nice comparisons, and here they were again, up for another round. It was still quite funny, arguments put aside.

The engine roared once again; Kenny managed at first try this time. Quick glance at her watch: they had ten minutes left, which meant they were awfully short on time, but that they'd be on time all the same. Seeing how bad it had started, it sparkled like a little miracle in Karen's eyes. Ken always had time, and even when he clearly didn't, he found it somehow, no matter how loud the clocks were. Quick glance at the sideview mirror: Craig looked half-awake, half-asleep, his grey eyes were crying for a bed and judging by his overall appearance, he must have had slept in a hardwood coffin. He picked his jeans randomly, regardless of their neatness, his oily hair hanged sloppily, he cut his chin, all in all wore the sacrosanct uniform of the local broke kids. She knew it for her brother got the same and that she owned its feminine version –a bit less of a shirker look, a faint care for matching colors, OK hair and a night that smudged her face a little less.

-You ran outta oil, dude?

-Nope. Ruby stole the fucking keys for no reason.

The silence that followed spoke for itself. Karen hold back a laugh: it was pretty much like Ruby to throw tantrums out of nowhere like that. They weren't good friends nor friends at all, they didn't attend the same lessons and barely lived in the same world at all, but Ruby, she alone was a whole Universe. You couldn't just not notice her. Craig on the other hand seemed to be more of the quiet type, the one who went unseen and was fine with it. He was an incognito Sheik or something. Was it bad? It certainly wasn't. Was he cute? Well. Maybe he was. Her brother's friends tended to be cute. Stan was, Butters was after all.

Quick glance outside: they'd arrived. It hadn't taken long. She smiled, untied her belt, opened the door and made a face as the cold wind kissed her violently on each cheek. Karen shivered in spite of her coat: it was thick but lacked warmth. January was definitely a crappy month for any living being around.

-See you later, Kenny, she said after she blew a quick kiss on his cheek and offered the brunette half a smile. Have a nice day!

-Where the hell is she going? Isn't your sister in middleschool too?

-Yes she is, Kenny answered.

The wind carried the rest of their discussion somewhere behind them, even further away from Karen. She couldn't hear them talking anymore and didn't intend to bother them the slightest. They sure were in the same building, but those two should have been in highschool right now. They were older on top of being boys. Red bricks buildings succeeded to one another on the side of the road as a monotone procession. Since there was no parking lot near school, as few students their age owned a car, she had no choice but to walk a bit to reach it. She usually didn't mind, except in January, because January sucked and sucked again. Quick glance behind her back –Karen was la specialist of furtive glances. They were talking, haggard and bored when they weren't laughing out loud, too lazy and cold to get their hand out of their pockets to gesture around. Karen caught one of their smiles, aware and uncaring that hadn't been thrown in her direction, to hell with that bullshit, and turned around. She'd look stupid if she tripped. Laura was a bit further, and she almost ran to catch up with her.

-Laura-Laurie, wait for me!


	3. Goof around

_Ugh this chapter was long! It took forever to translate, but I FINALLY DID IT (badly done but still, done, lazy me). I don't have much to say right now. If somthing is unclear or just not understandable, please ask, I don't bite. Expect some Bebe next time. ;)_

_Don't forget to review or follow or whatever to let me know if you like the story, your thoughts on the chapter or help me improve my writing. Thanks for reading, till next time!_

"Do as I say, not as I do"; Karen felt like this dubious maxim ruled over her whole life. Be it her brother, her father, her mother, her other brother, there was no helping it. It didn't seem likely that any of them would wake up someday to the wonderful realization that, all things considered, becoming a role model and acting like the ambassador of the Holy Integrity would actually be quite cool. They were nothing but a bunch of worthless idiots who obviously couldn't afford a brain, true to their glorious reputation of being good for nothings, she enumerated with a vehemence largely worn away by the love she held for them and, she had to admit it, habitude. Those recriminations were only random thoughts, and the kid didn't intend to make them anything more than this in a near future. She was happy just calling them all as witnesses in her imaginary trial, where she was both the lawyer and prosecutor. She invariably ended up giving on the charges, pitied them over mitigated circumstances or downright blamed fatality. Yet she sometimes happened to dream of cruel and unusual sentences.

And God knows at that very moment, she did. Karen had been cleaning and picking up all the shit that was lying on the floor since she got home from school. Ten short minutes of rest before getting to work had been far from enough to loosen her horrid mood, especially when she had to capitulate before the beer stains on the sofa, recognize the victory of the almighty torn tapestry, waved a white flag to the chipped painting here and there, bow down to the unstable chair. Karen focused her efforts on the spider webs hanging at the top corners of the walls and retrieved most of the old stuff haphazardly lingering around and that didn't seem to belong anywhere. Getting rid of dust had grown old fashioned here; she had long thrown the towel: that greyish bastard only rose in horrible clouds that made everyone sneeze. So much for fresh air, the windows remained closed. Everyone just enjoyed warmth better.

Karen stood in the middle of the living room, a proud smile on her lips. She ran a hand in her hair, put a few strands of hair back in place –they liked their freedom too much, and never would gently stay put. Two sizes too big jeans and Kenny's hand-me-down pullover were fine and well enough. It wasn't as if she really did have a choice, so she'd be better off without craving for more and prettier things. Her dull brown hair, her crooked teeth and badly isolated house were all the same. She usually wouldn't even to try and make that pile of crap with caving walls look decent, but where some held on to a sense of honor, she clang to a sense of shame that led her to put things in order when someone was coming over.

"It's just Kyle", Kenny would insist in those moments, "he saw the house three hundreds millions times already, no need to get all frenzy like that". He was damn right, of course. Two socks less hanged to dry wouldn't make quite the impression anyway. Their parents, as far as they were concerned, probably didn't notice much of anything except that it should have been Mrs.'s, or Mr.'s duty to do the chores, depending on who began the argument.

Karen heard three brief knocks on the door the second she glanced at her watch. He was always just in time. She opened the door, all smiles, and cringed to let Kyle come in. She wouldn't wish her worst enemy to stay on their excuse for a porch. February was coming closer and closer with every blow.

-Kyle, she said, hi! Sorry again to disturb you with that.

-Hi Karen, he answered simply. I told you it was no problem. Kenny isn't here?

-He hasn't gotten home yet.

She headed toward the living room, Kyle close behind. Her good mood had suddenly gone missing at the remembrance of the long, cold journey she had to walk through to get home. Kenny was a dick. Of course, she could have let him know that no, she didn't have anyone else to drive her home if her ever so lovely brother didn't bother to, and that yes, it did get on her nerves that he went to do god knows what god knows where after school. She should have had. The bastard could now count his damn blessings. Instead of what she pretended Laura's parents agreed to play taxi for her this time around. Laura waited for the bus every afternoon. She almost hated him for not guessing she lied.

She sat on one of the chairs circling the table and its unclean set, gave a slight kick to its feet to put it back in place and let out a deep sigh. So much for her recently found goodwill, she thought. Kyle took off his coat –a thick dark coat that went down to his knee–his gloves, his scarf –a beautiful, high-quality one for sure– and the hat that had been covering his head, then put everything on the back of his own chair. Karen detailed him discreetly, noticed the lack of holes in the fabric of the jeans and shoes' tread, as well as the shirt that couldn't have possibly blended in the scenery. The little girl hardly sought beyond the purely practical side of things. Yet she couldn't help but notice those details. Even his face, the pointy thin nose, his manners exhaled that "better than everything you could ever dream to own" feeling. Karen knew him well, about as much as she knew Stan or Eric, and in spite of his dubious patience, she knew him to be a nice guy. A nice guy she was slightly jealous of all the same –she blamed herself for that, but it didn't change a thing.

-I'm not asking you whether you want a drink, she declared in embarrassment, cause you'd only have the choice between cold coffee and cold coffee, so…

-Don't worry about that, I know how it is. I don't need anything special anyway. So, you worked a bit yesterday?

-Uh, yeah. I stopped somewhere like…

Karen took one of the many books piled up with seemingly no order on the table, every single one of them titled as alluringly as "algebra exercises vol.2" and "statistics". Armadas of notes made them look like colorful Christmas trees. She turned a few pages before she encountered a weird, red-circled formula followed by its questionable explanations. She slammed it open on the table, recognizing the awful culprit that made her terribly sleepy the night before –she'd quickly gotten rid of the temptation, she half-heartedly admitted, kind of ashamed now

-… Somewhere like right there. I didn't get a thing about that. I tried to ask my brother for help, but the face he made just upon seeing the cover of the book was…

-Yeah, I kinda get what you mean there.

The redhead was already diving through the blackened lines without any perplexity to drown him. McCormicks, Karen thought to herself, must share an atrophied brain on top of a single pair of balls and a salary, and couldn't even reach an agreement on who would get what, which mostly resulted in them sitting around like a bunch of oysters, contemplating the void between their ears.

-I got it. It's not all that complicated, I'll show you. You first have to take care of the calculus you need to develop; you can leave the other part aside for now. Here, for instance…

Half an hour later, Karen rested her head on the pam of her hand and understood, or so she believed, most of what she'd been told. Ten minutes later, Kyle, pinching the bridge of his nose, suck up plenty of frustrated sighs. The kid had had a constant frown on her face, sincerely sorry to be such a dumb idiot –the good point was that she finally understood the reason behind Kenny's reluctance to call his friend for help when homework was killing him. She only cracked a pale smile after that one deadly half-hour.

-Enough for this time?

-I wouldn't want to bother you for too long.

-Don't sweat it, it's rather cool that you want to win this contest –and that you actually work for it. Seeing a McCormick do something clever instead of complaining for a change isn't so bad.

He looked to have a brief reflection and waved his palms before him:

-I wasn't implying anything about your parents, huh.

The corner of her lips went up. His regards were completely useless: she knew where her brothers got their attitude from, after all. Hers was only different in the way she had to grab occasions when they passed her by, and to work her way to them. Chances of her actually winning the mathematics contest were close to zero –nice probabilities again, those bitches hated her with a passion. She didn't dare claim her true motivations –she wanted the prize, she wanted it quite badly. Karen might never have been strong-willed, but peering at Kyle's great clothes or the faceless mannequin's she gawped at through the glass of the displays kept her stirred and determined enough.

-Well, yeah, thanks for your help…

-You've still got five weeks left, right? I'm sure you'll ace, he encouraged her as he put on gloves, cot and Co.

Karen raised her shoulders when the door was suddenly slammed open. Bits of an existential conversation came first; the two boys followed soon after. One was discoursing; the other shook his head in agreement when he wasn't staring at his phone, maybe to implicitly let the blonde know he should shut the fuck up already. Karen came up with that one because she thought that's what she would've done too.

Not that Kenny was that much of a whiny, talkative guy. She wasn't fair, maybe because she still bore in mind the "can't-drive-you-home" thingy –which wasn't really his fault either. She'd have to get her hands on better excuses next time.

-That's not what I meant, dude.

Craig cracked a smile and turned toward the living room, probably aware of the two pairs of eyes staring at them both. The blonde did the same, startled to find Kyle nicely chatting with his little sister.

-You have guests, Ken.

-I know. Well, at least I know now. How are you, dude? I forgot you were coming over or you forgot to tell me?

A quick handshake and that was it. Karen stayed behind, uneasy when surrounded by too many people for her taste. Uneasy all the more when said people, the brunette and redhead since her brother wasn't what she considered "people", were giving each other icy looks. She blamed it on the frosty temperature. She blamed their ignorement policy on tiredness. She questioned her brother with a frown, he answered with a vague gesture. Well thank you brother dear, for your ever so staggering eloquence.

-Hey Karen, threw Tucker. You must have been fucking bored, my most sincere apologies.

She couldn't have pretended to have had the funniest day ever, but the point was that it wasn't Kyle's fault. She hid a smile; after all, she was used to hit: both she and Kenny had had plenty of time to learn how to take arguments with philosophy. Those two obviously didn't get along too well, but they weren't being too low and virulent about it. They'd seen worse. One was fighting with disarming honesty, while the other responded with a breathtaking pugnacity. The kid ran a hand through her hair and sighed –again. Hurray.

-Fuck you, Tucker!

-Guys…

-It makes me think, Kyle interrupted him, his hat now back on his short hair, we gotta talk.

-Talk like, an important talk? Or...?

Kenny and Craig looked at each other.

-Rather important, yes. It's about Stan. We can always talk later, when you got some time.

Oh, irony, sweet irony, how fierce can you sound.

-Stan? What's up with Stan?

Kenny had put his jacket back on, frowning. He had always known how to read the mood, decipher the changes, tip-toe away at the right moment, be quiet, listen, take guesses. Ken's reaction pointed to something big. Craig however looked amply unconcerned and rolled his unworried eyes in an unconcerned way. Blithe bastard, Karen thought for herself.

Kyle successively glimpsed at the girl and Craig before he took his cigarettes out of his pocket. The message, once again, was quite clear.

-You can have a smoke if you want then. Bye Karen, see you next week!

-I'll be right back, just wait for me here, sorry! And don't traumatize him, he added, addressing his little sister.

-Fuck you, she replied harshly –harsh words that got her a surprised look from Kyle. See you…

The two boys stormed out. Karen could see them through the window. She could even spot their icy breath or, sometimes, a cloud of light smoke. He turned to face Craig, embarrassed as hell:

-… Soon.

She felt like she used up all her vocabulary –god only knows how extended it was if swear-words counted. The other teen, laid back against the handrail, simply followed his friend's wonderful order of "just wait for me here" without any initiative spirit until they were done with the chit-chat outside. Karen didn't know whether out of sheer pity or sheer boredom he moved to the living room, she was grateful either way, although a little skeptical toward the sudden interest he grew for books. She had enough knowledge on politeness to understand that one shouldn't let a guest alone doing nothing; she didn't have enough to know what she could say to break the silence.

-Mathematics, really? You've got to be kidding me, or be totally desperate. It'd be easier to just ask him out, god.

The kid saw her reflection in the mirror turn a bright rd. She'd never thought of that. Why was he thinking she'd thought of that? Hell, she'd never had, not even once –and for fuck's sake, it was true.

-That's not how it is, she defended herself in a high-pitched tone. He's helping me out for school, that's it.

That was it. Craig nodded, easily convinced. When he wasn't killing a newborn conversation, she was. This one conversation, Karen commented, was a damn disfigured one she was glad to abort, end of the story. Karen glanced at him: the old same kind of clothes, the old same bad hair. He was taller than her brother, a bit less lean too. He had tougher features.

-Calm down, I was joking.

And he had eyes that clearly didn't convey their owner's oh-so-developed sense of humor.

-Did you do it yourself?

-What?

-The… You know, that thing here, she specified, pointing at her eyebrow. A small silver ring pierced Craig's.

-Everyone isn't too poor to allow one, actually.

Karen opened her mouth, speechless –be it because of her own question or because of her interlocutor's answer. Was he joking again? Was she supposed to guess if he was, play heads or tails? She frowned, pouted the way Kenny did. Kevin did that too.

She wanted to be gone all of a sudden. Or maybe she wanted Kenny to come back at once. It one of two things, or perhaps even both.

-And everyone isn't too poor to afford shampoo, she mumbled in petto.

-Uh?

Karen felt the red come all the way to her cheeks. She felt it right away. That kind of rumbles could mean anything: maybe he didn't hear her so well or maybe he was giving her a chance to swiftly take it back. She didn't have the right to overdo it, he was sure no stranger, but he was sure no furniture or familiar face either. She looked down, crossed her arms on her ugly sweater that lacked elegance and of which she was suddenly a bit too aware. She then proceeded to count the floor's lathes. You don't rule, Karen, she lectured herself. There are times you really, really do not rule at all.

-Aren't you supposed to be, like, the nice little sister who doesn't say shit?

Yeah, you wish. She gave no answer, but she was now almost sure she lost the count and started back from the start. She crouched on the chair Kyle had previously been sitting on, now gazing at the window. An immense cloud must have covered up the sun, as only a dim light shone through the glass. If only January would meet its maker sooner.

-I wonder what they're talking about, she complained half-heartedly.

-No idea. Chances are it's something stupid; since it's Stan-related, anyway…

He remained quiet for a second, bent to discern the two silhouettes more clearly and frowned. Karen gave it her best to swallow back an unwarranted smile. It was absolutely uncalled-for. He could say whatever he wanted to, however, she saw perfectly well how he craved for this piece of information: Craig Tucker, hearsay aficionado, king of gossip, prince of idle talk. It wasn't that much of a shocker when you thought about it.

-I'll question Ken about it, then I'll tell you, he said in a deadly serious tone –the only one, slightly deadpanned, that ever was available for him. You could lend me your shampoo as a proof of gratitude.

Karen's face was back to red. She genuinely thought that was something that would be brought back again and again for no reason for a long time –she was mistaken, and no way to know she was at the time. They'd have other things to say a little too many to hide for that. But now Kenny was still discussing with a gesturing Kyle outside. Quick glance at him: he met her gaze. He smiled. She shook her head. Smiled back; finally.


End file.
